


Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, and Kind

by EllisJay



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gifts with Unintended Consequences, Girl Scout Mothers Acting Irresponsibly, Jaime is Full of Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisJay/pseuds/EllisJay
Summary: Jaime is in love with his best friend, Brienne, and has plans to tell her....one day. Eventually. Definitely in the next year for sure. He's nearly 100% sure of that, or maybe 80% sure. A spur-of-the-moment Christmas gift bumps up his timeline considerably.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 69
Kudos: 188
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020





	Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, and Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KayJayTeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayJayTeal/gifts).



> For KayJayTeal who wanted a fic where one of them accidentally finds the perfect gift for the other one. 
> 
> A big thank you to aliveanddrunkonsunlight and samirant for their read-throughs and assurances that while this may be ridiculous fluff, it wasn't horrible ridiculous fluff.
> 
> A huge thank you to sdwolfpup for her hand-holding, assurances, brainstorming, and VERY strong opinions on a variety of Girl Scout cookies. Buzzfeed may think she is a Trefoil, but I assure you she is a mixed tray of Thin Mints and Samoas.

Jaime had put a lot of thought into how he might go about confessing his love for Brienne after all these years of friendship. He had considered all angles: a fancy dinner with her eyes shining at him over the candlelight; walking in the snow when they took their annual trip to the Christmas Market for hot cocoa and ice skating; snuggled under her big knitted afghan that always smelled like home because it smelled like her. He had even thought about how he could just reach over and slide his hand along her jaw, tilt her face just so, and cover her lips with his own, no words needed. He tried not to think of that too often, however, because it invariably spiraled into a hot and dirty fantasy of her pressed under him on the couch, and it felt rude to think of his best friend that way without her consent.

The point was that Jaime had put a lot of thought into what the moment would look like when Brienne realized that he loved her, and not as his best friend and confidant sort of way, but rather as a woman, a partner, the future mother-of-his-children even.

Yet in all his many imaginings, from the shy and sweet to the direct and hopeful to the downright inappropriate, he had never imagined he would do it accidentally due to a Christmas present he hadn’t even intended to buy.

But here they were, an empty gift bag lying on its side at their feet, and her lips pressed to his.

******

  
  
  
It all started when they were walking back to her place following one of their post-work dinners that they tried to do two or three times a week. She was detailing a case at work, her voice growing heated as she launched into a tirade about the factory she was suing, and he was lost in her, entranced by the sharp light in her eyes, and the swift movement of her hands when a young girl’s voice had broken in. “Excuse me, but would either of you like to buy some cookies?”

They both came to a stop in front of the slightly crooked table and chair, the top covered with little boxes of Girl Scout cookies, and Jaime felt a smile break over his face at the sight of them, as well as the three children in their perfectly pressed uniforms. They were all beaming up at him and Brienne, their faces open and innocent, and the amount of nostalgia that rushed through him took him by surprise. “Well, let’s see what you have left,” he said cheerfully, nodding at the mothers seated a few feet away. “How’s the business been going?”

“It could be better,” the girl on the left said, and Jaime was both impressed and amused by the calculating look in her eye. “We only have four days left to sell our stock.” She beamed up at him, and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Tywin would be impressed with this little girl, he had no doubt. If nothing else, she knew an easy mark when she saw one.

“I’m sure my friend and I can do something to help you out,” he told them, glancing back at Brienne, who was watching him with a soft smile. “I was just talking about how I hadn’t been able to find any Girl Scout cookies, and despairing over the sales ending before I got to buy my fair share.”

“Do you have a favorite kind?” another girl asked, and her eyes were more bashful than the first girl’s but made Jaime smile just the same.

“When I was a boy, my favorites were the chocolate and peanut butter ones, the Tagalongs?” Jaime told her. “But now I really like the Thin Mints. I haven’t had any of those in years.”

“We have those!” the third little girl piped up, and between her pigtails and bright green glasses Jaime could basically hear the tick of his biological clock as it sprang to life. She scooped up a green box and beamed at him, showing him that her missing front teeth were most likely responsible for the lisp he heard. “Would you like a box?”

“A box?” he laughed. “What would I do with just one box of Girl Scout cookies? No, no, I’m going to need far more than that. How many boxes do you have?”

He watched in amusement as they descended upon the table, counting frantically, and then he reached back to tug Brienne closer. If he had thought her smile was soft earlier, it was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now. His heart seized up in his chest for a moment as his own smile faltered. He had long accepted that he was in love with Brienne and that she viewed him as a friend, but sometimes,  _ sometimes _ she looked at him like this with her face open and unguarded, and her eyes and smile so damn fond, that he was almost certain she was in love with him too. 

But _almost_ _certain_ wasn’t enough to throw himself in her arms, and declare his undying love. 

“You’re impossible,” she told him with a shake of her head.

“What?  _ One _ box of cookies? That would be gone in ten minutes! And then I’d be out, combing the streets at all hours of the day and night, desperate for a fix. Is that what you want, Brienne?”

“You  _ are _ bad with restraint,” she allowed, still smiling that same soft smile.

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered under his breath, then smiled at the girls as they finished their hurried counting.

“We have twelve boxes,” the second girl announced proudly.

“Perfect,” Jaime said, holding his hand up for a high five, and beaming when she reached up to smack her palm against his. “I’ll take all twelve of them.”

“ _ All _ of them?” the first girl asked, and her shrewd expression receded a little under the sheer weight of her joy. 

“Absolutely,” Jaime said. “Now, what else do we have here? All the good stuff! Brienne, which ones are your favorite?”

“Jaime, you just bought a dozen boxes of cookies,” Brienne said with a laugh. “I think we're covered.”

“But that’s just  _ my _ favorite,” Jaime insisted, grinning at her. Gods, he loved making her laugh even if it was  _ at _ him. “We have to get your favorite too, Brienne. We can put half at your place and half at mine, and that way we’re covered no matter what.” He slipped his arm through the crook of hers, his fingers twitching slightly with the urge to slide down and tangle with her own. “So. What kind of Girl Scout Cookies are Brienne Tarth’s favorites? Tagalongs? Thin Mints? If so, I suppose I can share with you. No? What about the Lemon-Ups?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the girls again. “You know what? Give me a dozen of your lemon-ups too, please.”

“Jaime!” Brienne said, exasperated. “Are you seriously buying two dozen boxes of cookies?”

“Of course not,” Jaime scoffed. “I’m buying at least four. You get to pick two now as well.”

“I don’t need two dozen boxes!” Brienne swatted him. “I will buy two boxes, which is a reasonable amount.” 

“I’m reasonable,” he insisted, knowing very well that he was anything but. “The Thin Mints because they’re my favorites, and the Lemon-Ups because they make me happy! They have positive messages on them, Brienne. Where else can you get a sweet snack  _ and _ affirmations? I need the confidence booster. This is a form of self-care, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh absolutely,” Brienne agreed dryly. “I often look at you and think ‘That Jaime Lannister, great guy. If only he could find a way to be more confident.’ Every time.”

Jaime laughed and impulsively hugged her, steadfastly ignoring the sweet scent of her hair where it fluttered against his cheek. When he had first met Brienne, she hadn’t responded to any of his teasing or innuendos, choosing instead to blush furiously and storm away. It had taken three years and countless hours, but it was well worth it to have her standing here in his arms, making fun of him without a blush in sight. 

“I’m glad you noticed,” he said, releasing her finally. “Now, I demand that you pick your favorite cookies for your sad and lonely two boxes.”

She rolled her eyes but turned back to the table dutifully, smiling at the girls who were waiting patiently. “Hello,” she said in the same soft and careful voice he had heard her use at work countless times. “I would like to get a box of the Do-si-dos, please. And one box of the Samoas.”

Jaime grinned at her disparate choices. That was his Brienne...steady and old-fashioned in the very best way with a splash of color and fun. “Excellent choices, Brienne. We’re going to have so much variety. She’ll take a dozen boxes each.”

“Jaime, I said two!”

“Brienne, everybody knows that Girl Scout cookies are counted in dozens. So when you said two, you must have meant that you wanted two units which is two dozen. This is a known fact.”

“Is it really?”

“Of course it is,” he said airly. “Ok so that’s two for each of us which I guess is enough, but what about other people? People who aren’t lucky enough to be here at this moment?”

“Why are you so ridiculous?”

He loved it when Brienne called him ridiculous. She had said it more times than he could count, but each time it was with so much fondness that he felt his heart expanding in his chest. He was often ridiculous with her, he could admit to himself, but how could he not be when she enjoyed it so much? She laughed at him, yes, but she always,  _ always _ indulged him, joining in with a shake of her head and gleaming eyes. For someone like Jaime who had been raised to constantly think about maintaining a certain image, one that did not leave room for even innocently playful antics, the safety to just be himself was absolutely impossible to turn down. 

Brienne would halfheartedly protest, and Brienne would laugh, but Brienne would always accept him as he was.

“Oh Trefoils!” Jaime said, scooping up the blue box shoved near the edge of the table.

“Jaime, you hate shortbread,” Brienne reminded him.

“I do,” he admitted. “It’s dry and barely sweet, and it isn’t really a cookie, and you know it, Brienne. But you know who loves shortbread?” He grinned mischievously at her, waggling his eyebrows. “My father.”

Brienne’s peal of laughter, as big and bold and bright as the rest of her, washed over him, leaving him grinning at her helplessly. He may end up spending every bit of cash he had on him, but it was worth it for that laugh.

******

They ended up having to borrow the wagon from the delighted girls and their relieved moms. Jaime had apparently set a single-sale record with his six dozen boxes of cookies, since he insisted that buying five dozen instead of six made him twitchy, and he needed a nice round number. Brienne had tried to point out that sixty boxes  _ was _ a nice, round number, but he had waved her away with a careless smile, looking meaningfully at the little girls in their tidy uniforms.

“Despite the fact that you may have a problem, and we now have a lifetime’s supply of cookies, that was very sweet of you,” Brienne told him as they made their way up the sidewalk.

“A lifetime? Brienne, if this lasts a month then we have not fully committed ourselves to our mission.” When she just laughed and shook her head, he shrugged. “Besides it’s just money, and they were irresistible. I was always bummed that we didn’t get to sell cookies in the Boy Scouts. It was all setting fires and learning how to make a splint, and raking leaves out of people’s yards.”

“I didn’t know you were a Boy Scout,” Brienne said, glancing at him. “How long?”

“Until I was 13,” he told her with a rueful smile. “Then high school was coming, and I was way too cool for something as wholesome as the Scouts. It was a lot of fun those years I was in, though. I really liked some of the activities, and the summer camp was amazing. A week away from my father where I could swim and learn archery and play Capture the Hand? I looked forward to it every year. The weekend trips weren’t quite the same.”

“Did your dad go with you on those?”

“Gods, no,” Jaime scoffed. “Can you imagine Tywin Lannister in the  _ woods _ ? It would have been a nightmare. He would have worn a three piece suit fishing, and lectured me about not using the right size kindling to start a fire. Absolutely not.”

“You didn’t have to have a parent with you?”

“It was encouraged, but not required. I mean, sometimes Uncle Gerion would go if he were in town, and that was always a blast -- he had the best stories. But they usually had enough parents that would volunteer to make up for the sad little rich kids that were trying to have a piece of normalcy.”

Brienne hummed in both acknowledgement and sympathy, and Jaime linked his arm through hers again. “Were you a Scout?” he asked curiously. Brienne didn't seek out people, it was true, but he could easily picture her as a little girl, all big blue eyes and freckles, her hair in loose pigtails, applying herself to every task with the same fierce concentration that she possessed as an adult. His heart squeezed at the image. He had never seen pictures of Brienne as a young girl, but he would bet more money than he had just spent on cookies that she had been absolutely adorable.

If he sometimes imagined what their daughter would look like, well. Nobody had to know about it but him.

“I was for a little while,” Brienne told him, and he glanced over at her, trying to decipher what the undercurrent in her voice was. “Not very long, though. Just a few months.”

“You didn’t like it?” Jaime asked in surprise. “I would have thought it was right up your alley with the whole resourceful, character-building, acts of goodness thing. And with a tangible rewards system? Tailor made for Brienne Tarth.”

She shook her head, and though she gave him a small smile it didn’t light up her eyes like it normally did, or soften her square jaw. “No, it wasn’t really for me,” she said with a jerk of her shoulder. “I liked some of the activities, but you know I’ve never really been big on group activities. And we had different rules than you did. Once my mom died, I couldn’t really participate any more.” 

“What do you mean?” Jaime asked, his head snapping to look at her fully. “Did you just not feel comfortable anymore?”

“Well, I never really felt completely comfortable,” Brienne told him. “I didn’t really fit in with any of the other girls, anyway, but after my mom was gone...I mean, nobody came directly out and said that I couldn’t still do it. It was just strongly hinted at.”

“Hinted how?” Even he could hear how sharp and clipped his voice had turned, but picturing that little awkward blonde girl that lived in his imagination being ostracized over  _ her mother dying _ made him want to storm into the National Girl Scout’s office and set the place on fire. 

Metaphorically. Mostly.

“Oh you know. Just little comments here and there. A sewing project that I would need a mentor for. An overnight trip where everyone needed a female guardian. Just things like that. My dad was great, you know he was, but he was still a dad and we didn’t have any other family. Anyway. I got the hint.”

“What a bunch of assholes!” Jaime exclaimed, relishing in the righteous fury pumping through his body hard enough to make his skin tingle. “What an absolute pathetic group of hateful, heartless monsters. Gods, I know I can be a dick but to make an eight year old feel like she isn’t welcome after she’s already lost her mother? Make the world a better place, my ass!”

“It’s no big deal, Jaime,” Brienne said, squeezing his forearm. “It was probably for the best anyway. Like I said I didn’t really fit in with all the other girls, even then. And it gave me more time to spend with my dad. We both needed each other.” She forced a smile then. “I was kinda bummed about only having three badges though. It looked so unfinished.”

“It  _ is _ a big deal,” he insisted. “I mean, it’s great you got to grow closer to your dad, that you were able to be there for each other, but it should have been because you  _ wanted  _ to, not because you were apparently in the biggest troop of dickheads to ever wear the uniform. Who was your troop leader?”

“Jaime.”   
  


“I’m just asking!”

“You’re never just asking.”

“Brienne, what do you think I’m going to do, exactly? Track her down, storm into her place of business, expose her for the heartless monster she is, and then buy whatever company she works at before I take great pleasure in firing her?”

“Wow, that wasn’t overly detailed at all.” She did laugh then, and though it was genuine, it was still sad.

He hated her being sad.

“Brienne, I’m wounded that you would expect something so excessive, even if it is also exactly what the asshole in question deserves. I was just being a good friend, and trying to get to know you better.”

“Jaime, we’ve been best friends for years. I think you know me by now.”

“I don’t know the name of the woman who was an absolute bitch to you,” he pointed out, quite fairly he thought.

“I don’t even remember it,” Brienne told him, and oh he knew she lied. “I was only eight after all. I can’t remember everyone that hurt my feelings twenty years ago.”

“But you do,” he said softly. He knew she did because they all existed as soft spots in her heart, little and big cuts that still flared up regardless of how full her life was now.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But I’d rather not think about it, okay? It’s been a good night. I don’t want to ruin it by talking about sad things.”

Jaime loosened his arm so he could slide his hand down to take hers, squeezing her fingers with his own. He wanted to know the names of every mother in that troop, every single poor excuse of a woman who had thought it was okay to crush a vulnerable little girl, to shove her out of something that could have made her less alone. He wanted to track them down and tell them that she had grown up to be the most amazing, loyal, selfless woman to ever exist, no thanks to them, and that they would have been  _ lucky _ for their prissy little daughters to live in her orbit.

But he wouldn’t. 

Because even though he wanted to protect her, to shield her, to avenge her like he was the knight to her maiden, the thing he always wanted the most was for Brienne to have everything she wanted. And right now she wanted to let the subject and the memories fade away so that’s exactly what he would give her.

“Did you hear about Loras and Renly getting caught in Renly’s office?” he asked, forcing a lightness into his tone despite his lingering anger. “No? Well, let me catch you up then. It involved a tray of sugar cookies and a crown of spring lilies that was supposedly being used in a most interesting way…”

******   
  
  


He let it go despite the urge to find out exactly who had been involved. Over the next few months, as spring eased into summer and then into fall, he had tried to keep it ruthlessly shoved back so as not to hurt her any more than she had obviously been hurt. It would pop into his mind at random moments, sending a wave of fury and sadness through him, leaving him torn on how to process it. He wanted to ruin the lives of every thoughtless woman who had wounded Brienne when she was a small, grieving child, to find every single one of them and ask how they could have been so cruel. But he also wanted to hold her close and let every bit of love he had spill out over her until it filled all the cracks others had left behind.

Sometimes, when the rage was stronger than the sadness, Jaime would do a little harmless digging. He was a lawyer and a Lannister, after all, both of which made it fairly easy to track down her troop on Tarth, to find out exactly who had been in the Scouts with her, who their mothers were. He had a list tucked into his drawer at work on the very slim off-chance that Brienne would one day let him wreak havoc on the women who had hurt her.

But for the most part, he simply let it be another sad story from her past that he could never quite shake the weight of, and focused on making sure she was happy now. He couldn’t change her past, couldn’t make people see her worth, but he could damned sure make her laugh until she had tears streaming down her cheeks, could snuggle with her as they had their weekly movie night, could talk her into letting him push her on the park swings after their runs. He could focus on those things, and try to ignore his list of names as doggedly as he tried to ignore the fact that he was stupidly in love with his best friend.

By the time winter had started to creep in on them, Jaime was more focused on wrapping up his case against Blackwater Brewery and trying to cajole Brienne into taking the week after Christmas off for no other reason than they hadn’t taken a break together in nearly two years. He was trying to talk her into going away with him, somewhere warm and sunny maybe, with the somewhat hazy idea that he could tell her what was getting steadily harder to not tell her. It wasn’t a firm plan by any means, but he thought that it would probably be easier to kiss her if they were sitting beside the ocean, a little tipsy from sunshine and fruity drinks.

Besides, that way if she gently rejected him he could throw himself into the waves to disappear forever.

That was a problem for another day, however, since today he had been dragged all over the city by Tyrion, from one estate sale to another. He sometimes wished his brother had joined his father’s company instead of finding his success in opening a bookshop, if only because then Tyrion would have spent his weekends chained to his desk, figuring out ways to manipulate clients into giving him more money, rather than going to estate sales to comb through the books, and insisting Jaime go with him. 

Jaime was usually able to opt out of these expeditions with the handy (but truthful) excuse that he had plans with Brienne. Today, however, she had told him she had was finishing her holiday shopping with Dacey and Sansa, so here he was, in yet another house, wandering around carefully-arranged rooms while his brother examined every single book that was available.

“Tyrion, I’m starving,” Jaime complained for what was surely the fifth time. “We’ve been doing this for hours, and if I don’t get food soon, you’re going to have to carry me out of here.”

“Jaime, if your grand plan was to pass out and have to be carted off like a damsel in distress, you would have been much better off bringing your giantess with us. She’s far more up to the challenge, and I think we both know you’d enjoy it much more that way.”

“Don’t call her that,” Jaime said automatically, but without heat. Tyrion had referred to Brienne that way from the moment they had met, and he knew it was a term laced with affection rather than mockery. “Besides, Brienne was busy. If she wasn’t, you’d be on your own anyway.”

“Yes, gods forbid Brienne Tarth have a free day that is somehow not filled by you,” Tyrion said dryly. “What a terrible thought.”

“Glad we agree,” Jaime said, recognizing the bait for what it was, and for once refusing to take it. He idly poked at the jewelry spread on the table, as he always found himself doing when Tyrion insisted on making a day of these sales. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, and definitely not any potential engagement rings, but it didn’t hurt to look.

“Jaime,” Tyrion said patiently. “When are you going to just admit that you’re in love with Brienne?”

“I have admitted it,” Jaime said, glancing over his shoulder at him. “You spent two weeks laughing at me over it, remember?”

“Not at your feelings, brother,” Tyrion clarified cheerfully. “Just at the three hours you spent detailing them. Besides, you know what I meant. When are you going to admit them to Brienne?”

“I have a plan.” Jaime turned from the jewelry, irritated that nothing appealed to him.

“Do you?” 

“Well, a loose one,” Jaime shrugged. He wandered over to where some framed paintings were, wrinkling his nose at the overly bright splashes of color in random patterns. Brienne preferred art that told a story.

“Jaime, all you have to do is tell her. Or kiss her. Or drag her to the Sept without an explanation.”

“It isn’t that simple, Tyrion.”

“It  _ is _ that simple,” Tyrion insisted, turning back to the books. “Any jackass with eyes can see that she’s as stupidly in love with you as you are with her. And has been forever. I don’t understand how the two of you can look at each other and know where you want to eat lunch, but neither of you can see that you could have been married with at least one kid by now.”

A sad wave of longing swept over Jaime, but he very carefully kept his face blank. Everyone liked to give him shit about how obvious he was with his feelings, but he didn’t think anyone realized how much it  _ hurt _ him to have Brienne as a friend and nothing else. They teased and encouraged and pressured, and he laughed every time, but every nudge to go and get her just reminded him that he didn’t have her yet.

“She’s finishing up her holiday shopping today,” Jaime said, neatly sidestepping the image of domesticity that Tyrion had inspired. “Are you done with yours yet?”

“Of course,” Tyrion told him. “I finished last week. What about you?”

“Of course not,” Jaime said wryly, and couldn’t help but laugh at how very little they had changed over the years. “I’ve bought two, so that feels like progress. Besides, I still have a couple weeks.”

“You have eleven days, Jaime,” Tyrion countered dryly. “What did you get Brienne?”

“Nothing yet. I’m working on something though.” The trip could be her gift if the stubborn woman would just say yes.

“A proposal?”

“Fuck off, Tyrion,” Jaime said irritably. He moved to the next display, a long table full of clothes and handknit blankets. He wished Brienne didn’t already have the perfect afghan… that would have made a good gift. Maybe he should get one for his place?

“It was just a suggestion, brother,” Tyrion muttered. “Gods, you really are cranky when you’re hungry.”

Jaime rifled through the blankets, determinedly ignoring his brother as he did so. None of the blankets were as soft as the one Brienne kept on her couch, he noted with displeasure. He moved onto the clothes next, though experience told him it would be a waste of time. Tyrion had at least another fifteen minutes left, though, and pointless rummaging was still better than standing there simply watching.

He passed by the tiny brown vest before his brain clicked into gear, and he shuffled back to it. It was such a small thing, fit for the child who had probably worn it proudly until she had either moved onto a new interest, or graduated to the next level of the Scouts. Whoever it had belonged to had obviously been committed to their goals, though, because it was absolutely covered in badges, a rainbow of achievement neatly stamped down each panel that made him smile for a moment before he remembered how much Brienne had wanted to fill out her vest the same way.

She had been about this size when her mom died, he mused, and suddenly the tiny vest in his hands felt unbearably small and delicate. He could see her so clearly, stripping off her vest with its three lonely badges, shoving it to the bottom of the trash bin maybe, or carefully folding it away into a box with the rest of the dreams the world had told her she couldn’t have. Had that been the first time she had been made to feel that she didn’t fit in? The first time she was told that what she wanted wasn’t for her? The Brienne he knew was strong and steady and mostly unshakeable, but an eight year old girl who had just lost her mom? His heart ached just imagining her.

“What’s that?” Tyrion asked from beside him, and Jaime jolted, wondering how long he had stood there, the Brownies vest gripped in his hand. “That’ll never fit you, brother. And I’m far too sober to try it on.”

“Maybe after lunch,” Jaime said, shifting the vest to one hand and letting it fall to his thigh. “Are you ready yet?”

“I am,” Tyrion said. “Are you actually buying something for once? After all these sales you’ve tagged along on…”

“Been dragged on,” Jaime corrected.

“All the hours we’ve spent, poring over books and art and jewelry, you’re finally buying something and it’s an old Girl Scout vest?”

Jaime shrugged, hoping his casual disinterest would encourage his brother to drop it. “Nostalgia,” he said, smiling lightly. 

“If this is some weird sexual fantasy, and seriously no judgment if so, you have to know that Brienne will never be able to fit in that.”

“Gods, Tyrion, not everything has to do with sex. Or with Brienne.” Even saying her name in conjunction with the word was too much for his brain.

“Sure it does,” Tyrion said, still cheerful. “There’s some sexual motive behind nearly every decision a man makes, whether they want to admit it or not. And for you, Jaime, well, yeah. Basically every decision you’ve made in the last three years has been based on how it would impact Brienne, what Brienne would think, what Brienne would say. It’s very sweet when it isn’t nauseatingly irritating.”

“Thanks for the support,” Jaime told him dryly. He wasn’t having this argument again, that was for sure. Tyrion took great pleasure in letting Jaime know just how pathetic he found his endless pining.

“Of course,” Tyrion told him. “Now, let’s go pay for the child’s vest you’re purchasing, and then get to lunch so I can figure out  _ why _ you’re buying it.”

“I told you,” Jaime said. “Nostalgia.”

“Yes, us Lannisters are known for being very nostalgic,” Tyrion agreed. 

“About some things,” Jaime said softly then just smiled when Tyrion wrinkled his brow at him. 

A second-hand Brownie’s vest wouldn’t solve the hurt that Brienne had experienced, the embarrassment and shame and loss those assholes in the Scouts had shoved onto her tiny shoulders. He couldn’t give her the memories and sense of belonging that the troop could have given her if it had been run correctly, and he couldn’t make her forget that they hadn’t wanted her. But maybe he could at least take a shitty memory and give her something to smile about when the hurt flared up again. If he could do that, then that would be enough.

******  
  
  
  
  


Jaime thought about it and stewed on it, and agonized over it pretty much incessantly for the next ten days, but no matter how much he tried to talk himself out of it, he couldn’t bring himself to tuck the vest away as carefully as he had tucked her story away. On the night before Christmas, as he made his way to Brienne’s apartment with his belly knotted in nerves, he was still very unsure of how Brienne would react when she opened his gift. For all he knew, he was about to do nothing but remind his best friend of a horrible childhood memory. But he was going with his instincts, like he’d done his entire life. 

It had had mixed results, he had to admit.

When he let himself into her place, he felt some of those nerves ease away. Even if she was upset with his gift, even if she absolutely hated it, they would still be okay. Brienne was the only person in his life who didn’t doubt his intentions, even when the results weren’t the best. He had made her angry enough to throw a water bottle at his head, and upset enough to send her storming from his home with her hands shaking, but she never once believed that he had set out to do those things. She always allowed him a chance to apologize and make it right, and her faith in him stayed steady all the way through.

This would be no different.

“I’m in here, Jaime!” he heard her call from the kitchen and he hurriedly set his gift on the end table before going to find her. He liked her place so much better than his own. It always felt like home, but now with holiday music playing and the scent of cookies in the air, it seemed even more cozy. Jaime had grown up with very stilted family holiday dinners, trussed up in a suit with complicated plates of food that he couldn’t identify or pronounce, shaking hands with his father’s business partners, allowing his cheek to be kissed and his arm squeezed by their wives, and hating every single moment of it. It had only gotten worse as he had gotten older, to the point that he had felt as if he were one of the appetizers being passed out to the crowd.

The past three years, the years he had spent nestled in Brienne’s apartment with her, were infinitely better.

She was standing at the counter, humming off-tune as she transferred cookies from the pan to the wire cooling rack, her body twitching just slightly in tune with the music. Jaime took advantage of her preoccupation, taking the moment to simply study her without her being aware of it. Brienne at the office was all severe lines and sharply pulled back hair, her makeup sparse and purposeful. He loved the way she looked there -- in charge, in control, self-assured. But Brienne at home, the Brienne of soft leggings that hugged her long legs and ass, the stretched and faded blue sweater that made him want to climb inside it for a snuggle, her hair loose and slightly curly, her face clear and bare except for a swipe of gloss over her lips...this was his favorite version of Brienne. It was the version that was for him alone. 

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Jaime said as he approached, smiling as she turned to beam at him.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too,” she told him, sliding the last cookie onto the rack. Jaime had his arms around her before she could even set the spatula down, wrapping her in a hug that was slightly longer than usual. She was warm and firm against him, except for the parts that were unbearably soft, and smelled like sugar and vanilla and love.

“It smells great in here,” he sniffed appreciatively. “Cookies and...Pentoshi?”

“You say that like we don’t have Pentoshi takeout and cookies every year, Jaime,” Brienne said affectionately as she eased her grip on him. “I almost didn’t make the cookies this year, though.”

“What?” he gasped, reaching out to take one of the still hot cookies. He knew she made the chocolate and mint ones just for him, even if she would never admit it. “Brienne! Why would you not make cookies? It isn’t really Christmas without your cookies.”

“It felt like we’ve had plenty of cookies this year,” she said with a laugh, swatting his hand as he reached for a second one. “I thought about making candy instead, or I don’t know...some sort of pastry.”

“It’s tradition, though,” Jaime pouted. Her cookies really were amazing, something he looked forward to every year. 

“And that’s why I made them anyway,” she laughed again. “I knew you would be insufferable if I dared to change things up.”

“I absolutely would have been,” he agreed, moving to the table to begin plating their food. “Besides, there are never too many cookies.”

“Yes, I think you made your feelings on that very clear this past spring, Jaime,” Brienne said dryly. “Beer or wine?”

“Wine,” he said, glancing over at her. She already had the bottle in her hand, he saw, and couldn’t help but smile as he began to pick through their plates, swapping the garlicky mushrooms to hers, and placing all of the peppers onto his own. He plated the dense rolls onto another plate, humming with her as he gathered honey for his side, and butter for her own. He took his seat just as Brienne made her way over to the table, handing him a glass before sliding into her seat.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” she told him, scooping up a forkful of rice.

“Same here,” he agreed. “This week was brutal.”

“It was, but it was worth it.”

“Did you see the look on Blackwater’s face when the judge handed down the settlement?” Jaime laughed. “He really thought he was going to get a slap on the wrist.”

“I particularly liked the dramatic sweep of the table,” Brienne grinned at him. “You did good work on that one, Lannister.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Tarth.”

“We make a good team.”

Jaime smiled, ducking his head as he cut into his honeyed duck. “Yeah,” he said softly. “We really do.”

They continued to talk about everything and nothing as they ate, dissecting the cases they had closed, catching each other up on little bits of office gossip they had missed, Jaime pestering her about taking the following week off so that they could relax.

“Think about it, Brienne,” he insisted, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher while she transferred the cookies to a plate. “An entire week of nothing but fun and laziness. We don’t even have to go anywhere, though we really should. Have you seen the forecast for next week? It’s going to be miserable. Snow is only fun the first day.”

“It snows every year, Jaime,” she reminded him, snagging the bottle of wine to take into the living room. “That seems like a silly reason to pack up and leave.”

“I disagree,” he said, following behind her with the plate of cookies. “In fact, I think it just means that we should make a new yearly tradition. We could take every week after Christmas off, come back to ring in the new year. A week of no work, and no snow? Come on, picture it. We could wake up late and take naps whenever we wanted. Go swimming and eat dinner on the beach. It would be perfect.”

“They’re never going to let both of us take an entire week off,” Brienne said, shaking her head as she settled on the couch, trading the wine bottle for the remote.

“If we planned it ahead of time, they would,” Jaime insisted, setting the plate down beside the wine. “There’s always a lull after Christmas anyway. They could spare us for a week.”

“It’s a nice plan, but not realistic,” Brienne said, but her smile was wistful. She flipped through the channels quickly, settling on The Grinch. She glanced over at him as she settled deeper into the couch. “Don’t pout, Jaime. Maybe next year.”

“Yeah,” Jaime sighed. “Maybe next year.” Maybe by next year he would have worked up the nerve to tell her he was in love with her. Of course, he’d thought the same thing last year, and here he was, with him still pining and her still oblivious.

“Shall we exchange presents?” Brienne asked, and now her smile slid towards mischievous. “I think I beat you this year.”

“You may have,” Jaime agreed as his nerves came rushing back. “Tell you what, you go first.” Maybe she would be so busy basking in the pleasure of whatever she had gotten him that she wouldn’t be too upset about his gift.

“Deal,” Brienne said happily, bouncing up to pluck his present out from underneath her small tree. “I think you’re going to like it.”

“I always like anything you get me, Brienne.”

“Yes, you’re very easy to please, this is true,” she agreed as she came back to sit beside him, turning sideways on the cushions so that her knees brushed against his. Her smile lit up her entire face as she held out a small box. “But I really am pretty excited about this one.”

Jaime smiled as he ducked his head, picking at the tape that ran along one side of the box. Brienne looked so happy right now, her eyes gleaming and her big toothy smile dominating her face. He loved seeing her like this, completely at ease and full of joy, her leg bouncing in anticipation. He hoped she was still smiling after she opened his.

At the thought, his own smile faded a bit.

“What’s wrong?” Brienne asked immediately, tilting her head a little.

“Nothing,” Jaime said quickly then slowly set the box down on the coffee table before leaning over to grab the gift for her. “Maybe you should open mine first.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, her eyes still running over his face. “Worried I showed you up?”

“Something like that,” Jaime agreed, shifting on the couch to hand her the bag. “I wasn’t really sure what to get you,” he went on nervously. “And I hope this doesn’t upset you. It was kind of an impulse buy.”

“Why would it upset me?” He watched her long fingers pluck at the tissue paper, and swallowed against the surge of tangled nerves and desire that rose within him.

“Just...just open it, and maybe keep in mind that I meant it as a good thing.”

“Well, I’m definitely intrigued now,” she chuckled. Jaime found himself holding his breath as she began pulling the paper out of the bag. She set it aside neatly rather than crumpling it as Jaime always did, and then her hand dipped in before it slid back out, the tiny brown vest somehow even smaller in her grasp. “Oh,” she said. That was all. Oh.

“I found it while I was out with Tyrion the other day,” Jaime said hurriedly, wanting her to understand. “Remember? You had gone out to finish your shopping? And I wasn’t looking for it. It isn’t like we went to a Girl Scout’s museum or something and I bought it. It was just there, with the badges already on it. And I remembered…”

“I can see what you remembered,” Brienne said softly.

“I bought it on a whim,” Jaime continued, worried that if he didn’t get all the words out, that if he didn’t make her understand she would storm off or throw the vest in his face or burst into tears. “And I wasn’t even sure that I was going to actually give it to you, especially not as a gift, but then…”

“Then what?” Brienne asked after a long moment. Gods, he knew this tone. It was her ‘wait and see’ tone where she hadn’t made up her mind by any means, but was trying to be patient before she issued her verdict.

“When I got home I looked at all the badges,” he explained. “And I don’t know which three you already had, but the rest of them...damn it, Brienne, you should have been able to stay in the Scouts and earn every single badge you wanted. Because these? All of these on here? I’ve seen you earn them hundreds of times over the last three years.”

“Jaime, I didn’t…”

“But you did,” he insisted, sliding closer to her on the couch, gratified when she didn’t pull away. “Just look, okay? Like this one, the Artist badge. Brownies get it for painting. You remember when I moved to my place last year, and we spent all night painting the entire place because it was Slasher Flick Red? Or the Performance Badge! After we won against the Boltons, you chugged nearly an entire bottle of champagne by yourself, and you danced for almost an hour before you got really hot and puked in that planters box outside the bar. And you sang, very off-key I’ll admit, in the cab on the way home. And the Cook badge, Brienne. Every single week you somehow put together a snack that is a thematic match to whatever movie we’re watching. Who can even do that? I don’t understand how you come up with half the things you do.”

“Jaime,” Brienne sighed.

“The First Aid Badge?” He tapped his finger against the red cross on the upside down triangle. “Brienne, when I had to have surgery on my hand, when they weren’t even sure I would be able to keep it, or use it if I did? You were there every single day. You stayed there no matter how much of a dick I was to you, or how much I complained or cried. You learned to change my bandages, and you made me go to physical therapy. I wouldn’t have half the function I have now if it hadn’t been for you, and you know it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is!” he insisted. He didn’t understand the urgency that thrummed inside him, the rush he felt from one point to the next. “And the Do It Yourself badge? You can do everything by yourself, Brienne. You’re so good at everything. Not just at work, but everywhere you go. You can change a tire and replace a leaky pipe and make a five course meal and you even sewed that hole I got in my sweater last year, remember?”

“Jaime, the hole was the size of my fingernail and the stitching was crooked.” She was staring at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide. 

“It was  _ perfect _ ,” he said vehemently. “I would have just thrown it away, but you saved it. That’s what you do, Brienne. You make everything better, you save everything, everyone. Like this badge here, the Citizen Badge. How many times have I seen you take a client who’s been screwed over, been exploited, been beaten down, and you just fix it? You look at them with those ridiculous eyes of yours, and you talk to them in that deep, soothing voice, and they know everything is going to be okay. They know because they know they have you on their side, and even if they’ve only known you for five minutes, they know they’re safe with you. You have saved so many people, Brienne.”

“Jaime, I don’t…”

“Yes you do! I should know better than anyone because you saved me, Brienne. This badge?” He pointed at the little beige piece of fabric, decorated with three red hearts. “It says ‘please’ because it’s a Manners badge, and okay maybe you aren’t always the most polite person in the room. But do you know how kids get that badge?”

He was aware of how desperate he sounded, how crazed he must look, but Brienne simply shook her head, her eyes huge in her face. “No.”

“By making friends,” Jaime told her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “And maybe that’s a simple thing for a lot of people. Maybe everyone else just goes around making friends like it’s no big deal, like it isn’t hard to figure out how to be vulnerable with someone, like it isn’t nearly impossible to trust someone with all the messed up, jagged pieces of yourself. But it’s hard for me, it always has been.” Her eyes never left his, wide and wondering as he spilled his heart out all over her. “Before I met you, I was sarcastic and selfish and cruel. I was so fucking self-involved that I didn’t see anyone else, I only saw me, and I didn’t even like me. I was alone before I met you. I still don’t know how you did it, how you saw anything of value in me, how you gave me a chance to be someone else. But you did, Brienne. And you changed my life. Hells, you  _ saved  _ my life. The Girl Scouts promise to try every day to make the world a better place, and those asshole women you were with couldn’t do that, Brienne, but you do. You do it every single day just by being you.”

He had more to say, more badges to explain, more examples of how she was the very best thing that had ever existed in the world. But he couldn’t think of any of them because Brienne simply blinked, leaving him with only a moment to panic over the sheen of tears in her eyes, before she was surging forward to cover his mouth with her own. He froze, his mind going completely blank as his brain tried to scramble to catch up with what was happening. Brienne was kissing him. With her mouth. That she was putting on his mouth. This had never happened before, at least not outside of his dreams.

Right he needed to move his mouth or his hands or some part of his body, but he felt frozen as the kiss held for one, two, three seconds.Just as he was shaking himself aware enough to open his mouth under hers, she was lurching back away from him, scrambling to her feet, her cheeks scalded red. 

“Brienne,” he said softly, unable to take his eyes from her. 

“Oh gods, Jaime, I’m so sorry,” she choked out, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Brienne, it’s okay,” Jaime said, shaking his head, a hysterical laughter building up in his chest.

“I forgot I have the thing,” she said, moving backwards quickly. “So I should go. And do the thing. And I’ll just see you later.”

“Wait, what? Brienne, no.” Jaime pushed himself up, trying to catch her before she could run away. “Where are you going? Just wait a second.”

“I have the thing,” she insisted, her hand fumbling with the door even as her feet shoved into slippers.

“Brienne, this is your place!” Jaime said, hurrying forward, but she was out the door in a flash, the vest still clutched in her hands, slamming it behind her with a decisiveness that felt particularly pointed.

Jaime stood in her living room, the empty gift bag at his feet, as The Grinch plotted away on the tv screen. He didn’t know if the Brownies had a badge for running away from an impulsive action that they obviously regretted, but if so Brienne had definitely just earned it.

What the hell had just happened? He had given Brienne his gift, and then word vomited all over her, which had somehow led to her kissing him before sprinting away into the night. He had imagined their first kiss hundreds of times, but not a single one of them had ended with her so desperate to get away from him that she left her  _ own  _ apartment. Where in the world would she even go? She was wearing slippers, for crying out loud, and hadn’t even grabbed her bag or her phone. He supposed that meant that she wouldn’t be gone too long, but that wasn’t exactly a comforting thought as he stood in the apartment that suddenly felt way too big.

Jaime raked his hand through his hair, then slowly sank back to the couch. If she was expecting him to go back home to lick his wounds in private, she was greatly overestimating his sense of pride. It didn’t matter if she was gone five minutes or five hours, he would be waiting when she returned. He had her fuzzy blanket and her plate of cookies to keep him company if nothing else.

His eyes fell on the little box on the coffee table, and he slowly picked it up. Surely it wasn’t rude to open her gift to him? He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was on opening a gift that had been handed to you before you made the giver cry. Whatever it was, it surely couldn’t be any more rude than her kissing him and then running away a moment later. He hadn’t even gotten to kiss her back! He’d barely gotten a taste before she had flung herself away from him, which seemed very rude in his personal etiquette book.

Jaime picked at the paper, half hoping the door would open and Brienne would return if he went slowly enough, but it was only a moment later that the paper was ripped aside and balled up on the table. He studied the envelope for a moment, idly wondering why she would bother wrapping it, before breaking the seal and fishing inside for the piece of paper. He felt his breath catch a little as he unfolded it and saw what it was. An email printout confirming a parasailing lesson in the name of Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth, four days from now in Barter’s Beach. 

He thought back to all the times he had badgered Brienne about taking a vacation after Christmas, the times he had tried to sell her on the idea of the two of them escaping to some sunny island, all the moments that she had rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. She had shot him down every single time, using logic and common sense to make it clear that it just wasn’t possible. And now here he was, holding proof that she hadn’t thought it was a silly idea at all, that she was going to go with him on a trip to Sothoryos and had even planned an activity for them. He wondered when she had decided to go, if she had made one of her itineraries up, or booked a hotel. 

He wondered if she would still want to go with him.

Jaime set the paper aside and then scrubbed a hand over his face as he flopped back on the sofa. He had to swallow around the tightness in his throat at the idea of Brienne planning out a trip for them as a Christmas gift, and then deciding she couldn’t bear the idea of being stuck on a beach with him. He couldn’t make sense of what had happened. She had kissed him, he hadn’t imagined that. Was she horrified at herself? Did she have instant buyer’s regret? 

He had always accepted that if he and Brienne ever kissed, it would be  _ him _ who kissed  _ her.  _ He had just assumed that at some point the longing would just be too much for him to bear, and he would throw himself at her mercy just because he could simply no longer do anything else but let her know how he felt. Brienne wasn’t meek by any means, but she had been hurt in the past, by friends and by lovers, and he couldn’t picture her taking that leap. Leave it to her to do just the opposite of what he expected. He should be used to it by now.

Jaime just wished that she would have stayed, would have given him a chance to explain why he had frozen, to tell her how much he loved her, and how long he had wanted her to do just what she did. Then, if she had meant it, if kissing him hadn’t been some wild impulse that she had never considered, he would have really kissed her. He would have hauled her body against his and learned the shape and taste of her mouth until she either shoved him away or pulled him closer. He would have left no doubt in her mind that he wanted her in his life however he could get her, though he would prefer her naked and happy and sharing his last name.

He lost track of time as he sat there, replaying every moment leading up to her hasty kiss and even hastier exit, but The Grinch was listening to the Whos sing when the door opened and she was striding back through the door. Jaime leapt to his feet, suddenly horribly nervous, and kept his eyes on her, tracking her messy hair and flushed cheeks. Brienne came stuttering to a stop at the sight of him, sucking her bottom lip in her mouth the way she always did when she was nervous. “You came back,” he said dumbly.

“You stayed.”

“I did,” he agreed. “Why didn’t you?”

She shook her head, lifting a hand to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Jaime tried to catch her eyes but she was looking at everything but him it seemed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here.”

Jaime nodded reflexively, firming his jaw against the tightness in his gut. “I’m not one to run away from a fight, Brienne. I didn’t think you were either.”

She glared at him, and stood there looking so miserable that he felt the urge to tell her that none of it mattered, that they could forget what had happened and move forward with nothing changed. But he couldn’t because it did matter, and for better or worse, and gods it was looking like it was going to be for worse, he couldn’t forget that Brienne had kissed him any more than he could forget that she had run away and returned looking miserable.

“I’m not,” she told him, lifting her chin up. 

“Pretty sure you did,” he countered casually, though it cost him dearly.

Brienne sighed, her fingers moving restlessly against the brown fabric of the vest. “I was trying to give you a chance to duck out,” she told him. “I thought if I just left, you could escape and we could just act like none of this ever happened.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Jaime asked, and even he could hear the desperation in his voice. Her eyes searched his face, and though he wasn’t sure what she was looking for, he knew what she would find if she just looked close enough. He felt like it was all there for anyone to see. Gods knew everyone had felt the need to comment on it before, everyone but her. “Where’d you go, Brienne?”

“Just down the street to the diner. I wasn’t running away, Jaime, not for good. I just needed a minute.”

“Twenty-three of them, actually.”

“Jaime,” she said in exasperation. 

“Just say what you need to say,” Jaime said resolutely. “I can take it. Well, that’s probably not true, but I will make a manly attempt at taking it before going back home so that I can spare you my dramatics for once.”

Her lips quirked in a small smile then, though her eyes kept searching his face, scanning the way they did when she was trying to make sense of what she was looking at. He forced himself to relax, to not put on his long-lost Lannister mask so that she could see everything he felt for once. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but whatever she found seemed to steady her, to center her. She sucked a sharp breath through her nose, and then nodded firmly before walking steadily towards him. 

“I thought I had screwed up.” 

“You didn’t.” He took a deep breath, fully aware of how pivotal this moment was. “What made you come back?”

“You’re still my best friend, Jaime,” she said softly, and her gentleness was so at odds with the sharp pain in his chest that he felt himself flinch. “And I remembered something as I looked at this vest you gave me.”

“What’s that?” If she said something about forgiveness and friendship there was a good chance he would have to run screaming into the night.

“Part of the Girl Scout way, one of the first badges you get. For being honest and fair, courageous and strong. And I haven’t been honest with you, or fair. And I damn sure haven’t been courageous. I was for a second tonight, and then I ruined it immediately by being a coward again.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Jaime told her, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t been honest with you either, or brave.”

“You were,” Brienne said with a shake of her head, dropping the vest to the couch and then rubbing her palms against her thighs, another tell of her nerves. “When you sat there and told me how you see me, that was you being honest and brave. So I think that means it’s my turn again.” It was her turn to take a deep breath, shutting her eyes as if she had to gather her nerve. When she opened them, they were resolved, determined, as fierce as he had ever seen them, and he knew there would be no going back from this.

“I’m in love with you,” she said so plainly that he could only blink. “I have been for at least two years. And unless you just have some very lofty standards for your friends, I think maybe you’re in love with me too.”

“There’s no maybe about it, Brienne,” Jaime said, and the relief that rushed through him made him light headed enough that he swayed slightly, reaching out for her. His arms slid around her waist just like they had a million times before, but now there was a weight to the way her breath hitched a little even as her own arms lifted to loop around his neck. He reeled her in, just the way he had imagined doing a million times, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt the long line of her body press against his own. “I’ve been in love with you nearly the entire time I’ve known you.”

“You never said.” Her eyes were shining again, glossy with tears that no longer scared him because her smile was even brighter.

“Neither did you.”

“I didn’t think you could ever feel the same way,” Brienne said quietly, and he shivered at the brush of her breath against his mouth. “It seemed impossible.”

He kissed her then, rising up on his toes just a little so that he could press his mouth against hers. Her lips and nose were cold against his skin, but her tongue was wonderfully hot as it slid along his own, her fingers sliding up and into his hair to hold him steady as she kissed him. Their first kiss was a rushed heartbeat of time, but this one- this one was urgent and hungry, their lips and teeth and tongues impatient as if every moment of agonized pining had finally caught up with them, and their bodies were in a hurry to make a reality out of what their hearts already knew. It had taken three long years to bring them to this moment, but it was worth every one of them to finally be here, with her in his arms. 

When they separated, Jaime simply pressed his forehead against hers, unable to speak. Being with Brienne always felt right to him, always felt as if he was where he was supposed to be, but holding her, the taste of her still fresh in his mouth, felt like the final piece of who he was sliding into place. He knew they would still have some bumps to navigate around as they figured out how to be a couple in every sense of the world, but he also knew, with a bone-deep certainty that steadied him rather than left him shaken, that they would do it. He would be able to kiss her in the living room on Christmas Eve every year for the rest of his life, kiss her awake on Christmas morning before the day spiraled into the madness that would come with children, kiss her Christmas night in front of the tree before taking her to bed. He wanted those moments with a desperation that surprised him and he knew that while he may have been  _ too  _ patient in telling Brienne how he felt, he wouldn’t be able to do so with this. He wanted to start their life together, wanted their next Christmas to be in their home with the future building around them.

“Thank you for my present,” she whispered softly. “It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten.”

“Thank you for mine,” he told her, grinning. “It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten too.”

“Me or the trip?”

“Both,” he laughed. “Definitely both. Was this your devious plan all along, Brienne Tarth? Wait for me to make a fool of myself, then kiss me before you told me you had planned our honeymoon?”

Gods it would never get old, watching her splutter at whatever outrageous thing he had said. “Jaime! That’s our Christmas vacation that you’ve been going on and on about, not a honeymoon! We’re not getting married right after we finally kissed for the first time like a pair of idiots in a Hallmark movie, and we are  _ not _ using my Christmas present to you as a honeymoon!”

“Are you sure about that, Brienne?” he asked teasingly, leaning forward to nip at her mouth then down her jaw. “Really, really sure?”

It turned out that she wasn’t.


End file.
